


But There Must Be Some Fire

by paxnirvana



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-09
Updated: 2010-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxnirvana/pseuds/paxnirvana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the Jaya Arc. Both of them are looking for something; what can they find?</p>
            </blockquote>





	But There Must Be Some Fire

**Author's Note:**

> The utter alienness of the Devil Fruit users calls to me. Okay, not much else to this but an excuse for semi-existential sex. ^_^   
> Spoilers for end of Alubasta Arc, post Jaya mini-arc, occurs concurrent with early Skypeia arc, but that hardly matters.

> There can no great smoke arise, but there must be some fire.  
> \- John Lyly, "Euphes and his Emphoebus" (p. 153) 

~*~*~*~

The island was called Jaya. The town Mocktown. It was a place the local Marines had long ignored as a gathering place for those too incidental, too weak, in the scale of things on the Grand Line, to worry too much about. But now…

Smoker stood at the railing of his ship staring into the ramshackle hodge-podge of a town, arms folded across his bare chest, and chewed on his customary two cigars angrily as he waited for Tashigi to return from the information-gathering mission he'd sent her on into town. He was restless, waiting here on the ship for her to complete her mission. Far more restless than normal. But lately he'd been plagued by an overall sense of discontent, sensing there was far more going on in the world beyond than he'd been able to discover. Not that he didn't understand that the workings of the world were deep and often hidden. But this was something more than the usual feeling of discontent with the way of things.

He was glad Tashigi's spirits had picked up some, but she was not quite yet recovered from the hard blow her convictions had taken after Arabasta. He'd need her in top form for the hard days that were sure to follow.

The Straw Hat pirates – as well as some other more dangerous prey – had already been to this island and gone. He'd missed them by perhaps less than a day. Yet because of them, Bellamy and his crew now rested in the seastone-lined brig of his ship.

He frowned, unsatisfied. It was yet another capture to put on the Straw Hat's books. At this rate, he was going to either be promoted to Admiral or put out of a job by that punk's habits. His gaze narrowed in irritation just as he caught sight of the glint of glasses atop a dark head approaching down the dock in the center of a small knot of Marines.

Tashigi at last. He pulled the cigars out of his mouth and blew a thick cloud of smoke from his mouth. He waited for her to get closer, not denying the small flicker relief that went through him to see her return. If he'd ever had a daughter, he'd have been proud to have her turn out with just a fraction of his sergeant-major's strength of will and sense of honor. She was a fine Marine. If he could keep Headquarters' narrow-minded, self-serving idiocy from breaking her heart.

"Captain Smoker," she said when she reached the foot of the brow where it lay on the dock below, her somber gaze fixed on him as her men climbed the ramp past her up onto the ship. "I discovered some more information on the Straw Hat's activities."

She frowned as he grunted his interest. Used to his ways, she was doubtless frowning over her own thoughts. "They apparently avoided all conflict with Bellamy and his crew until Bellamy took action against a salvage man living on the far side of the island; Monbran Cricket. It seems this man may be the last one to speak with the Straw Hats before they departed Jaya."

He grinned tightly, clamping his teeth back on his cigars. "You found out exactly where on the island this salvage man lives?"

"Yes, sir." He turned his head and bellowed the order to make ready to sail to the chief of the deck. The man saluted him sharply, crew scattering efficiently behind him to ready the ship for departure. Smoker turned back to the dock below to find Tashigi continuing to hesitate at the foot of the brow. He frowned down at her, puffing hard on his cigars, impatient to get on the trail again.

"What?"

"Sir, there is a strong rumor that Blackbeard and part of his crew were also here. And that the Straw Hats also avoided conflict with them at first as well. But they all seem to have left the island at about the same time, sometime yesterday morning."

"Is that so?" he grunted, gaze narrowing. Hm. The Straw Hats were not quite as altruistic as they seemed, perhaps. Or maybe it had just been chance that Blackbeard had not stirred up the brat-captain's ire like Bellamy had. Monbran Cricket could possibly hold the answers to those questions. He was eager now to find the man and ask.

"Yes, sir. But I thought I saw…" she trailed off, gaze shifting back toward the town. He waited for her to look back up at him, her expression thoughtful and a little puzzled but not alarmed.

"What is it now, Tashigi?"

She started up the brow at last, her tread firm on the planks, her hand clenched tight around the sheath of her sword as she boarded the ship. "No. It's nothing, sir."

~*~*~

The trip to the far side of Jaya was uneventful. Tashigi's strange pensive mood passed quickly enough. Their landing, at the flimsy façade of a palace that fronted half of a small non-descript stone house, was standard except for the oddity of the truncated house itself.

Monbran Cricket, however, refused to cooperate.

Smoker stood at the table outside the man's house, one booted foot up on the bench, Tashigi standing silently behind him, and glared across it at the heavily bandaged man. Tanned, tattooed and with a strange growth on the top of his head, he looked like yet another Grand Line reject. Smoker had already eyed the torn up surroundings, the meager, ransacked provisions in the house, the hastily concealed bits of gold and other useless sea-stained things, all evidence of someone eking out a bare existence at the edges of civilization. But Monbran seemed unbowed by the facts of his pathetic life. Marines surrounded the man, sabers ready, but he was unconcerned with their show of force as well. That poise impressed Smoker a great deal, but of course he didn't let it show. It was obvious Monbran hadn't escaped unscathed from Bellamy's attack, but still someone had done a first-class job of treating his injuries. Most likely the Straw Hat's recently acquired Drum Island doctor, Smoker mused, chewing thoughtfully on the ends of his cigars in a way that scattered ash everywhere.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," the man said again, meeting Smoker's glare steadily, his own expression carefully blank. "Never heard of no 'Straw Hat Luffy' or any of those other people you're talking about 'cept Bellamy. And he's a worthless piece of petty, thieving shit, taking my little gold trinkets from me like that."

"Funny how everyone in Mocktown remembers differently," Smoker answered the man calmly. "Seems as if some kid in a straw hat came to town early yesterday morning to get your little golden trinkets back for you. Took care of the whole lot of them himself in no time flat, then vanished in this direction. They said he stretched like rubber. Definitely not human anymore, that boy." Smoker dropped his boot from the bench, flicked the two burned-down stubs of cigar aside toward the banked ashes of what had been a huge bonfire, and drew two fresh ones from the sleeve of his coat. Taking matches from a pocket he struck one on his belt buckle and lit the cigars one after the other, puffing them to life with deliberate care before sucking the thick smoke deep into his lungs without a cough.

Monbran Cricket frowned at him for the action, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

"You're not human anymore either."

Tashigi sucked in a surprised breath. Smoker just flicked his gaze to the man, allowing himself a brief twitch of his lips in triumph, even as the knowledge of the extent of his own inhumanness echoed inside of him. But it didn't matter to him. Not as long as there were still pirates out there who had made the choice to change themselves in exchange for power as well.

"Aa, you do have recent experience with Devil Fruit users then, don't you?"

The man snapped his mouth shut, frowning, a trace of unease about his eyes now.

"Bellamy…" Monbran tried to cover his slip, sweating slightly at last.

"He wouldn't bother using his powers on you." Smoker glared, slamming a fist down on the table between them hard enough to make the other man jump. "No, you met the rubber brat all right. And his doctor the reindeer who bandaged you up so nice. And the dark-haired woman – Nico Robin – with all the hands. Where did they go from here?"

After a moment of holding Smoker's gaze without flinching, Monbran laughed loud and long, lifting his hands to rub them over his face wearily. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, Marine," he said bitterly.

Smoker bared his teeth humorlessly, leaning back and adjusting his cigars in his mouth. "Try me."

After another long moment of silent, measured glaring, Monbran finally shook his head and pointed straight up, a resigned look on his face. "They went off to sail in the sky."

Around them his sailors shifted, muttering angrily among themselves, doubtless convinced the man was mocking their Captain. They were new to the Grand Line, most of them pulled along from his post at Loguetown. Good men, but still raw. He would forgive them their ignorance and lack of discretion… this time. Tashigi, at least, had wised up enough to hold her silence and pay attention. She still flicked her gaze between the two of them with a hint of puzzled confusion. Smoker narrowed his gaze on Monbran as the big man glared back at him defiantly.

"They went up to the White Sea? Why?" Smoker said and his men fell silent, startled.

Monbran blinked at him in shocked surprise. "White Sea? What do you know…?"

"You never made it any further down the Grand Line than this island here, did you?" Smoker said to the slack-faced man. "I've been to Marine Headquarters and beyond. Access to the White Sea is heavily restricted as it can be even more dangerous than the Grand Line itself. How did the fools plan to get up there from here anyway?"

Monbran was still staring at him blankly, clearly shaken. "By Knock Up Stream," he finally said. "It's a giant sea-geyser caused by volcanic pressure that erupts randomly in this area…"

Smoker waved the rest of the man's explanation away, chewing his cigars furiously as he lifted his gaze and glared past the man out to sea. The odd restlessness that plagued him so often lately rearing it's head with surprising intensity in that moment. He wanted to be on the sea and moving again. But toward what? His targets had apparently vanished into the sky. "The damn fools," he snapped. "Hell. We'll just have to wait until they come back down and pick up their trail again then. Going to High Waist would take too long."

"High Waist?" Monbran repeated, a big chunk of the color draining out of his face.

Smoker shifted his glare back, folding his arms over his chest. "Don't think it. You'd never make it through, old man."

"Who's an old man?" Monbran bristled, flexing his broad shoulders slightly.

"Don't be stupid." Smoker tapped the ash off the end of his cigars, stuck them back in his mouth and grimaced around them at the other man. "Odds are they won't come down around here again anyway; the Sky Islands drift around just enough to possibly put them on another Log Pose track. But it depends." He snorted out a cloud of smoke. "You might see them again, old man; you might not. But the Straw Hat brats will make it through whatever they find up there, you can count on that."

Monbran picked up one of the small golden statues from the table in front of him and turned it around thoughtfully in his big hands. It looked like one of the island's native birds that Smoker had caught sight of in the jungle as they circled the island earlier. Annoying, loud things. Southbirds, Tashigi had told him they were called. Stupid name for a bird.

"Why does it matter to you, Marine Captain?" Monbran Cricket said quietly, glancing at him sidelong as he set the statue back down on the table with a thump. "If they die up there your job is done, isn't it?"

Smoker turned away from the man, dropping his boot to the ground with a thump, annoyed. Wasn't quite sure, then, why he gave this man a piece of the truth. "They won't die up there. That Straw Hat brat and his crew took out one of the Shichibukai who'd gone rogue: Crocodile."

Monbran surged to his feet behind him, eyes wide, hands flat on the table, the golden statute falling over with a thump onto the tabletop unheeded. "They what?!"

Smoker grimaced over his shoulder at Monbran. "Change your mind any about that kid and his crew now, old man?"

Monbran looked away then, to the south, his face pale and beaded with sweat, his eyes wide. Giving away everything. But Smoker knew if he went that way now, after the blast they'd heard at sea yesterday, that the Straw Hat's caravel would be nowhere to be found. They were already either safely sailing the White Sea high above, or they were dead. He had distinct doubts about the dead part, however. That Straw Hat brat had infernally good luck.

What had been the odds of his brother, Fire-Fist Ace, catching up to him right at the same time Smoker himself finally did, after all? Or that he and the brother would be so evenly matched in their powers as to be forced to a stalemate in their battle. So evenly, intimately matched… he wrenched his thoughts away from that frustratingly inconclusive battle before he could wallow in his rage again. Ah. He needed something else to focus on before that nagging restlessness overcame him again… On others he hated more, like that bastard Dragon who had chosen to interfere way back in Loguetown. The Dragon didn't bestir himself for just anyone or anything -- not even the World Government's orders, most times. That he had over this ridiculous boy was most of the reason Smoker had found himself clinging to Monkey D. Luffy's trail so tightly. At first. Until Crocodile and the rescue of Arabasta. Now he was determined to follow the brat all the way to the end, just to see for himself what happened around him.

The world was changing again, it seemed. Just like it had on that fateful day 22 years ago.

And he, Smoker, was determined to see that change through to the bitter end.

To see true justice served.

~*~*~*~

He went south anyway, of course. Just to be certain. Using that annoying local bird Monbran grudgingly told them about to get to the general location of that latest Knock Up Stream blast.

They passed two ships on a return course to Jaya; Monbran's salvage ships captained by the United Primate Forces brothers. They had bounties, the pair of them, but Smoker let them pass without action. He had only one ship of his own, after all, and he really had no quarrel with the Ape Brothers, despite the pirate flags the two ships flew. They mostly disturbed just the dead. Besides, that Monbran man was pretty blatantly waiting for their return.

Tashigi just folded her arms over her chest after pushing her glasses up on top of her head when he gave the order to let the two ships pass, and silently shook her head at him. He firmly ignored her small, pleased smile.

They did find traces of wreckage once they reached the site where the sea was still dark with muck and dirt churned up from the bottom of the sea floor. But the wreckage was of a ship far too large to be the Straw Hat's. He had his suspicions on who might have been aboard the thing, but there were no signs of survivors any longer. The monkey crews they'd passed earlier might have picked them up – or finished them off – but he doubted that too.

Still, if they had, he'd never been against letting pirates take each other out and save him the effort.

Tashigi sent out crews to gather information from the broken ship. And, of course, to look for anyone who might be in distress as well. He let her go through the motions without comment, waiting on deck drinking his coffee as they returned empty-handed except for a piece of sail painted with a design that confirmed his suspicions. Not Straw Hat's ship, but Blackbeard's. That menace wouldn't have been taken out by this disaster either most likely. That would have been far too convenient a happening for the world at large.

At sight of that design, he caught himself wondering if Portgas had made it this far yet. Back in Arabasta, he'd claimed to be hunting Blackbeard himself after all. Right before he broke up Smoker's pursuit of Monkey D. Luffy. Surprisingly strong too, that brat, just like his little brother. He still remembered the way Portgas' fire had heated his smoke, rippling through him, disrupting his plans and his composure. Fire and smoke… evenly matched. Following one after the other inevitably. But smoke could still overcome fire, he believed… smother it until it was reduced to embers. Subdue and contain it. Next time, he would, he vowed; Portgas would be his. He frowned, abruptly aware that his pulse had surged despite himself, and finally forced his thoughts back away from the older of the annoying brothers who plagued him. But it took more effort than he liked.

Pirates hunting pirates was fine by him. But if Portgas got in his way again… His thoughts wandered to the inside of a towering column of smoke and fire. Such careless strength… such insolent will… such…

"Where to now, sir? Back to Jaya?" Tashigi asked him, her words dragging him back from his oddly distant thoughts to his place standing beside her on the deck of his own ship. She stood with her hands gripping tight on the wood of the rail as she tried to keep herself from staring up at the sky above.

"No," he ordered gruffly, shaking off the heavy sense of disorientation. "We have trash in our brig to get rid of first. Set course for the nearest Marine base – G8."

"Aye, sir," she said, looking up at the thick, dark clouds that swirled above at last before turning to carry out his orders, her expression pinched with a blatant concern he pretended he didn't see as he turned to go below.

~*~*~

It was the second hour of mid-watch, and they were half a day away from Jaya's seas already, making swift going with a strong beam wind through the Grand Line night.

Smoker sat in his cabin reading a sampling of the increasingly angry dispatches from Headquarters his Den Den Mushi operator had dutifully been taking down. The stack was at least twenty pages thick already with more arriving every hour. But Smoker read them more for the amusement factor than anything else, as he had no intention of obeying the increasingly strident demands for him to return immediately to Headquarters for debriefing on the 'Arabasta Uprising', as they were calling it. Bastards didn't have the spine to call it the carefully orchestrated takeover it had been. One of their chained wolves had turned on them blatantly at last and they were trying to deny it completely.

It was enough to make him sick. He snorted in disgust and crumpled the stack of pages in his fist before tossing them aside.

Well, he'd said all he had to say on the matter to Hina already. She, at least, had understood his frustration, even if she didn't agree with all of the decisions he'd allowed Tashigi to make under his authority. Of course, the fact that he had no quarrel at all with the biggest of Tashigi's decisions – the one to let the Straw Hat pirates go free in Alubarna – had annoyed Hina to no end. But she'd still let him leave her territory without attempting to stop him. In defiance of her own shrilly-worded orders too, he was certain.

He leaned an elbow on his desk, bracing his forehead on that hand. His cigars smoldered in an ashtray beside him, untouched, but still filling the air with their heavy aroma. He'd discarded his coat on the hook by the door when he came in as the tropical warmth of Jaya still seemed to be permeating his cabin even this far out to sea. Opening a porthole or two would likely help, but seemed almost too much effort to make. He yawned once, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and arms crossed across his chest, letting the day catch up to him. Wondered about the odd sense of disorientation that had plagued him off and on all day long. Considered the wisdom of just shedding his boots and going to bed, as it was past one in the morning already and it was likely pure exhaustion that was making his thoughts wander so badly. Tashigi would certainly be up with the sun, practicing on the deck outside his cabin, shouting and carrying on with her katas. He should catch up on sleep while he could in peace now.

He let a small smile touch the corner of his mouth, secretly relieved that Tashigi was so determined to find her feet again. She'd certainly had no trouble with the rogues in Mocktown, after all. His mind wandered from his pleased relief for the recovery of his sergeant's spirits to his old friend's annoyance. Well, Hina would suffer no damage to her reputation and status out of recent events at least. She had a beyond average quality haul in the former Baroque Works Officer Agents captured throughout Arabasta. All wanted criminals on their own. Plus there was the confirmation of the kill of Daz Boris the assassin to add to her record as well...

"Oya, a fond smile like that on your ugly mug looks kinda creepy, ya know."

He jerked his head around, already halfway to his feet, his gaze seeking the source of that low-voiced comment. Found it immediately. In the far corner, near the door to his private head, a lean, bare-chested form lounged. Broad-brimmed black hat, long black shorts and calf-high boots were the only other covering for the young man who had invaded his cabin.

The hat was pushed back away from a freckled face to reveal a broad, infuriating smirk and dancing eyes. "Portgas," he snarled, something odd flickering through him briefly as soon as he confirmed the identification.

"Captain Smoker," Portgas replied dipping his head to him with remarkable politeness. "How nice to see you again." The words made Smoker grind his teeth with irritation. The brat was acting as if they were meeting for the first time at some damned official function somewhere instead of him being a notorious and wanted pirate who had invaded the private cabin of a Marine captain on a Marine ship underway right in the middle of the fucking Grand Line. Damn it, and his sea-stone tipped jitte was still hanging off the back of his jacket across the room by the door. Not that he couldn't deal with this brat on his own -- but the ship around them was mostly wood, after all. And Portgas controlled fire…

His men. Tashigi. His lip curled as the stalemate was driven home, tense concern filling him and driving out the odd rush of eagerness he'd first felt. "What the hell are you doing here, Portgas?"

"Looks as if you and your Marines got to that wreck outside Jaya before I could," the impudent brat said quietly, taking a step away from the corner and gesturing casually toward the rest of the ship with one hand. The other hand was stuffed negligently into a front pocket of his low-slung shorts as he shrugged, bare shoulders gleaming faintly in the lamplight. "I'm just looking for information, that's all. So. Did you figure out whose ship it was?"

"Brazen fool," he murmured, eyeing Portgas narrowly, anticipation making his pulse throb in his wrists and throat. "Yes, I know whose ship it was." The pirate grinned wider at his words and took another step forward, his amused gaze never shifting away from Smoker's.

"Care to share?"

"Care to spend some time in my brig?"

Portgas shoved his hat back further on his head, letting more of his mop of black hair fall loose around his face. "Nope. But if you tell me I promise not to burn the ship around your men before I go. _Captain_."

He snarled at the brat, eyes narrowing. "Is that a threat?"

Portgas shrugged, eyes sharp despite the lopsided grin on his face as he leveled a finger at Smoker's face. "No, a promise. From pirate to marine." Then he laughed.

Smoker melted into smoke before the sound echoed even once. Furious, he filled the room with thick white billows that obscured everything from human sight. Surrounded the pirate with himself, trapping him, but the laughter just continued unabated, low and rich. He waited for what would have been three heartbeats, but, to his disgruntled ire, Portgas didn't respond in kind, staying in mostly human form instead of flashing over into raw fire.

"Now what?" Portgas said, spreading his arms wide through the thick white clouds that were Smoker as if it were clear air. He felt the sudden heat of the tiny flames now dancing on the ends of the brat's fingers like a ghosting caress across his skin, igniting something dangerous within his smoke. A response? _Impossible_. "C'mon, Captain, it's just a simple bit of information that means nothing to you… tell me, and I'll be on my way and out of your hair." Portgas' face twisted into a mocking pout. "Aw, can't you bring yourself to share?"

He solidified behind the pirate faster than thought, hands already locked around the brat's wrists. Was twisting one arm up high behind the boy's back before his feet solidified, pressing it over the damning tattoo without much effort. Portgas jerked forward, staggered a half step before he caught his balance, but made no further attempt to struggle. Unexpected. He'd been counting on rattling the brat. So he leaned over the boy's shoulder and breathed words into his ear with low menace. "You show up inside _my_ ship – inside my own cabin – and dare ask that? I'll break you in two, you impudent little brat…"

"Brat?" Portgas didn't seem fazed at all to have his arm twisted up that way. Or to be caught in Smoker's grasp, with Smoker himself looming so close behind him. The brat just tilted his chin toward Smoker's, a wide grin curving his expressive lips. "Hey, now, that might apply to my idiot little brother sometimes, but I'm a man grown, ya know."

Smoker sneered and leaned closer, until his bare chest was flush against the boy's equally bare back. He could feel the quickened pace of the other's heart through his flesh, nearly matching his own. "You're a punk pirate kid with a dangerous Devil Fruit power," he said. "And I've been dragging your type in for execution since before you were out of diapers, _boy_."

"Eh, yeah, old man that you are. What, 30, are you? Ten years isn't _that_ much younger, you know. Besides, I think I might have more miles on me than you do..." And then the boy did flicker into fire, slipping through Smoker's hold as he dissolved, forcing him to return to smoke-form to keep from being burned. And as the other's fire passed through him, he felt the same hot, heady rush as he had in Arabasta fill him. Because here was an equal worthy of his strength; complementing him perfectly, his match. Neither seemingly able to best the other. He smothered the spots on the floor where Portgas' feet had burst into flame with thick smoke, choking the fire out before the flames could take hold. But the boards were still seared a dark brown in the shape of footprints; another thing to hold against the cocky little shit. He lifted his ephemeral gaze in a dangerous glare toward the flickering column of fire in the middle of the room. Damaging his cabin like that… the brat would pay.

Before he could act, Portgas reappeared an arm's length away, facing him with hands spread wide, expression gone serious at last. "Hey, hey, I don't _really_ wanna burn your ship down, ya know…"

Smoker solidified again too, teeth bared. "No? Then behave and let me capture you."

"Rejected." The cheeky grin returned as the boy dropped his hands to lean hips, hooking his thumbs in the sloppily tied belt that looped them. "Damn, you're stubborn. Just answer my question and I'm outta here, man. No major property damage necessary." Smoker glared his answer as Portgas shook his head wryly. "T'ch, knew I shoulda gone to ask that cute sergeant swordswoman of yours instead…"

He was across the room in a billowing surge, his human hands locking around Portgas' throat and one of his arms before the boy could blink, driving him backwards with full strength. They slammed into the wall next to his desk hard, both of them flesh and bone. Portgas' hat fell to the floor beside them with a clatter, knocked away by the impact. "Stay away from Tashigi," Smoker snarled into the faintly astonished freckled face. The fierceness of his glare promised swift, dire retribution if Portgas dared disobey him.

"Whoa! Easy!" the boy choked out, clawing at the hand that had slid up under his chin and clamped on the bones of his jaw brutally with his one free hand, while the other twisted uselessly where it was pinned against the wall behind him. Smoker just leaned in harder, squeezing the boy between the wood and his own body, shoulders rounding, feet braced wide. To his surprise, the boy took it, staying stubbornly in human form even as his eyes bulged slightly beneath Smoker's grip. But then it wasn't a crushing grip… yet.

"Let's get this straight… _I'm_ your only opponent here," he snapped. "Don't involve her or I won't wait for a public execution, Portgas."

"I knew it," Portgas gasped, tilting his head back, his wide mouth spreading in a triumphant grin, while above his eyes had gone dark and deep and endless. "You wanna fuck me bad now, don't you, old man?"

"Right through the floor, brat," he snarled back, blood roaring in his ears from so much more than simple rage now.

"You're on." Then Portgas' leg was winding around his butt, dragging their hips together. And Portgas' free hand was reaching up to grab at the back of his neck, yanking him closer. He could feel the heat rolling off the boy. More than a normal human's. So hot. Heat without sweat. It called to the smoke inside of him even as he sealed his mouth over the boy's, answering the challenge.

More a mashing than a kiss, they devoured each other. Hot and slick and frantic. Smoker furious to find only some of the nagging craving that had started in him during their battle in Arabasta assuaged at last by Portgas' tongue and lips and breath.

The boy managed to meet his demands unflinchingly, even winding his hand in the short hair on the back of Smoker's head and dragging him closer. Eager and willing and defiantly aggressive in his own right, burning with a fire he had to answer. Literally, as tiny flames licked along the boy's bare shoulders, threatening the wall and his ship. He loosened his grip around the boy's jaw, letting his hand rake down across those flames, smothering them with a palm made of thick smoke, extinguishing them. Until he reached the boy's chest. Then his hand returned to solidity, tracing across concealed bone and lean, hard flesh until he felt a patch of softness. Ran a hard thumb across the sleek nipple until it peaked. Then caught it between his fingers, rolling it mercilessly, until he felt Portgas groan into his mouth and shudder against him.

Suddenly, he wanted to be inside the body in front of him so badly it was almost like a fever. The need searing through him, leaving him shaking.

He raised his gaze slowly. The answering need in the boy's eyes was plain. He wanted it too. Flesh on flesh, in flesh. Perhaps as badly as Smoker did himself.

He pulled away enough to stare down at the boy in his arms while he sucked air into his lungs like a bellows, momentarily disconcerted. He hadn't felt this raw of a need ever before in his life. Nothing this primal and unrestrained – it was almost like a fever, or some kind of disease. But the instant of concern drowned in rising want as he devoured half-lidded eyes, wide, blurred mouth, flushed freckled skin with his gaze. Read a whore's abandon in those parted lips damp and gleaming with saliva. He let Portgas' wrist go, reaching for that Siren's face and riding his thumb hard across cheek and into the open mouth. Probing the wet, hot depths until he had found and mapped tongue and teeth and tender inner flesh to his satisfaction. But want couldn't stop him from thinking about how many others might have felt that heat before even as hot breath washed across his palm in little urgent surges, the boy's need blatantly displayed.

He growled deep in his chest, a faint anger stirring through the pressure of need. "Fuck a lot of your enemies, do you, Portgas?"

"O-only the ones I don't kill," the boy gasped, teeth catching the rough edge of his thumb with the words and making him shudder again.

Smoker smiled grimly as he pulled his wet thumb out of the boy's mouth, smearing a glistening trail of saliva across the flushed cheek. "But you can't kill me."

The hand on the back of his neck flexed up, fingers digging into his scalp, urging him down. "Don't count on it, old man." He fell into the pressure, bending down to silence that impudent mouth with his own again. Tasted the flavor of his own tobacco-infused flesh on Portgas' tongue. Groaned hard in response.

A strong hand clamped onto his back, sliding from around his side until the fingers were spread flat and wide over his spine. A vulnerability he shouldn't show anyone who claimed to be a pirate. But the hand only stroked the length of his back down to his waist, burning sparks of longing into his flesh. The leg wound around his hips rocked them closer, pressing hardness to hardness, rubbing them together through denim and leather in a way that soon drove all remaining thought from his mind. He was lost to heat and motion and taste, until all he was aware of was the need to bare the lean body below his completely and force his way inside it if necessary.

He tore his mouth from the boy's only long enough shift down and savage the skin of his throat, wrenching the dark head back to do so. Biting at taut flesh until a gasping cry came from the boy's mouth. He bore down on the join of neck and shoulder, sucking hard, lost in the flame-bright flavor touched with a hint of his own smoke that permeated Portgas' skin. The hand on his back had turned claw-like, raking at his bare flesh eagerly.

"Get the hell out of your pants, old man," the boy groaned, gasping words echoing the red-tinged thoughts in Smoker's mind, a hand dragging at Smoker's own belt even as the lean body writhed against him. "God damn! Get inside me already!"

The impatient words triggered responses both primal and possessive. "Not your first time, eh?" He snarled, breathing hard against bruising skin as he struggled to keep himself from dissolving into smoke. Not an easy task since he could already feel hints of fire rippling through the other's flesh as well. Tantalizingly hot. "Bottom often do you, brat?"

The dark head flew back, thumping into the wall as the boy glared up at him. "Hell no!" Portgas said indignantly, drawing breath to say more, lips twisting into a sudden scowl. But the wide mouth was swollen, wet and inviting, taunting him, and so Smoker covered it again with his, swallowing whatever sharp words the other might have added as he dragged the boy down to the floor. Spreading him flat beneath him with relentless hands; covering him with his larger body completely.

And again, the boy let him manhandle him without escaping into the flames of his devil fruit power, feeding the heat building inside of Smoker to dangerous heights by that simple concession alone. He felt like an impending firestorm, smoke laden with sparks, deadly with the potential for flame, heat pouring from every part of his own body now too.

"I'm going to fuck you raw, boy," he promised in a low rumble, crouching over Portgas on hands and knees, staring down into dark, heavy-lidded eyes gone blank and nearly mindless.

"Do it," Portgas hissed, arching up toward him, hands locking around the back of his neck for leverage. He wasn't sure later if he actually released the boots and the pants by conventional means or if Portgas just let himself dissolve through them as a haze of heat. Either way, Smoker threw them aside almost at once, kicking his own boots away after. Awareness had narrowed to need and scent and the feel of the sleek, heated flesh twisting eagerly beneath him.

But he still somehow stopped at the buckle of his own belt to stare down at the lean body writhing beneath his and was briefly overcome by what he saw.

Dark hair scattered wildly across wooden decking, stray strands sticking to a panting, open mouth. Flushed, freckled skin below dark, hooded eyes. A shockingly abandoned young man, writhing on his floor, waiting for him to take him; practically begging to be taken. Portgas D. Ace. Devil Fruit user. Second Commander of the fearsome Whitebeard Pirates. Fire-Fist Ace. A terror of the Grand Line all on his own. But now the boy's hard fingers were biting into the back of his own tense thighs to hold them wide, long, lean legs held up and spread, shamelessly displaying the rock-hard cock rooted in a dusting of slick black hair between and the way the glistening tip bounced against a washboard stomach, with taut balls and small hole quivering beneath. Ready, eager and wanting him; this man who had claimed to submit to no authority save that of his chosen Captain, Whitebeard. Giving himself.

Smoker blinked once, shook his head hard, and for a brief moment his thoughts were lucid enough to wonder where this consuming need to possess the other had come from. Obviously it had kicked into high-gear when they touched each other in devil fruit form again, but he'd felt it before that... since Arabasta. But why would it affect them both this way? Fire and smoke drawn to each other after a single full-powered encounter – but an encounter where their very essences had merged and nearly become one as they fought...

Was that the source of this sudden blinding need? Was there something of himself left inside the boy, calling to him? And vice versa? Drawing them together to reclaim those portions of their selves? Could they, this way? Or would it only make it worse, deepening the bond. Tying them tighter together... pirate and marine... deadly enemies...

He frowned and tried to pull back, suddenly wary. But before he could get far, rough hands caught at and fumbled impatiently with his belt, knuckles brushing at the hardness straining beneath in a way that made his vision tunnel, his breath catch. And caution vanished in a blaze of need.

"Idiot…" he hissed, managing to close one hand around a wrist, but found himself unable to pull the boy's hand away from its prize. Forgot even why he might want to do so as he grunted under the short, rough strokes the boy's other hand darted in to make over his trapped erection in between impatient tugs on his belt.

"Do it, damn you," the boy snarled, yanking the heavy belt open at last, hand rubbing over his aching cock again through the thick denim below. "Get inside me!"

Pushed beyond the limits of his control, Smoker reached through himself, as smoke, and ripped his own pants away. "I already am, you fool," he said, catching a knee and pressing it high, rolling the lean body back and driving the head of his dripping cock into the waiting hole in a single, brutal thrust. Ace dissolved into fire in that instant, high shout of mingled shock and pleasure vanishing into the crackling, inhuman roar of flame, almost searing him dangerously in return. But he went instantly to smoke himself, thick and full, covering the blaze, containing it. Preventing it's spread. Permeating Ace's fire with the essence of himself until smoke and sparks and sourceless flame seemed wound seamlessly together.

Ace flickered almost instantly back into flesh, arching up, clawing at the floor, the desk beside them, Smoker's shoulders; his flame-wreathed fingers left scorch marks on nearly everything he touched save for Smoker's flesh. Sparks danced across them both from skin to skin, while curls of white, white smoke rose from beneath the boy's black hair where it lay on the deck. Ace was the primal essence of fire, lean body flickering with searing licks of flame, all while impaled ruthlessly and repeatedly on Smoker's first ephemeral then flesh and blood and then back again to smoke cock. Utterly inhuman, in that instant; a man of pure fire, Smoker saw, felt, breathed. But then he was no longer human either, flickering between billowing smoke and flesh in those same instants. Matching the other perfectly. Driving their mutual fire and heat and need higher and brighter with each searing, smothering thrust. Accommodating the shift and clench and burn of Ace's inhuman body easily without a hint of conscious thought.

Ace buried his face in Smoker's neck, wound legs around his hips, an arm around his shoulders and held on tight. Opening himself wide to each piercing thrust. Crying out for more, and harder, and deeper in a nearly desperate way, his voice rough and rasping from the thick smoke that filled the air around them, restraining his fire. His other hand reached between them to pull desperately at his fire-shot cock while Smoker obliged his demands, driving deeper, ever deeper inside him with every stroke.

And Smoker was aware somewhere in the tiny portion of his mind that was still sane – or just still human –, that he was the only one who could ever match Ace this way; the only one who could enjoy, endure or even hope to fan the inner fires of the boy writhing in his arms to this point without destroying either or the both of them utterly in the process.

His smoke-flesh form throbbed with the glory and power and sheer twisted inhumanness of one who had given themselves up to the Devil's Fruit as he came – as white fluid, white smoke, white ash, white everything. Filling the fire, swirling through it, mixing with it. He reveled in the indescribable glory of it even as he made one last shuddering plunge further into Ace. Savored the flickering flame-flesh caught in his arms as it exploded into answering release, fiery streams pouring across his belly. Ace's cry almost drowned out by his own shout as he exulted at being inside Ace, wholly part of him in the moment, each of them utterly intrinsic to the other in that fleeting instant.

Falling with a shock back into flesh alone, he appeared on the floor of his office beside his flame-scarred desk, crouched shuddering on his knees, an equally flesh-and-blood Ace sagging limp in his arms. Both sweating and spent. Both of them breathing like bellows in the sultry, smoke-hazed air.

For the first time in many, many years, he felt smoke sting his eyes.

Frowning and blinking, Smoker tightened his arms around the quivering back of the other. The boy's arms lay draped heavily around his shoulders but slipped down, slack, even as he hauled the boy up tighter into his hold with muscles that felt oddly like lead. He still managed to bring the lean body against him again, even dragging the lolling head high enough so he could reach down and steal the breath from the boy's desperately surging lungs with the urgent pressure of his mouth.

He found the flavor of bitter smoke and ash stained the boy's breath. Like a dying fire. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. Growling, he reached for more, savaging the willing mouth. Stabbing deep with his tongue, sucking hard on the one that shifted to duel with his.

The devouring kiss was finally broken by a series of deep coughs from Ace, ragged and raw, the force of them shaking the lean form brutally. Resting his sweat-damp forehead against the boy's when they quieted at last, Smoker removed the irritating dregs of smoke from the air in the boy's lungs and then from the room around them with a flex of will. Mildly surprised at how difficult it was to draw the particles back into his own being where they belonged. But even as he did so, Ace coughed again. Deep and messy. Smoker frowned. But grew far more annoyed to find that, when he tried to reach casually across the length of the room with a cloud-backed hand to open a porthole for fresh air, the rest of his powers had failed him. He was left sitting with an arm raised uselessly, hand stubbornly stuck on the wrist like a normal man's.

He glared at his own hand for a moment in disbelief. He was unable to change forms, it seemed, even though he'd been able to clear the cabin's air of smoke. Which meant nearly all of his strength had been drained. Leaving him vulnerable to Ace's fire. Unless...

He brought his hand back and roughly cupped Ace's face, scraping sweat-damp hair away from closed, bruised-looking eyes so he could see them clearly before winding his fingers in the thick mess of dark hair behind one ear and holding on. The scattering of freckles high on the boy's cheeks stood out stark against skin gone sallow with exhaustion.

"Oi, brat," he called, watching those shadowed eyelids. Waited for a response. Then spoke again, when no reply came save a brief quickening in the pace of breaths taken. "Portgas."

"That's my name. Now shut up," the boy wheezed after a moment, a mild frown drawing his brows down in a way that might be cute if that kind of thing mattered to Smoker. "I'm trying to figure out if I still have toes..."

Smoker glanced down the slumped length of the boy's bare body pressed close to his own. Duly noted that all appropriate parts appeared to be in place. For the both of them.

"They're there." His lips twisted into a wry grimace. "You can't shift forms right now, can you?"

The frown deepened as the boy seemed to concentrate slightly. After a long second his dark eyes flashed open, pupils wide with shock as he stiffened in Smoker's grasp. "Well, shit," he confirmed. "That's bad."

Smoker had to laugh at the vaguely disgusted expression mixed with the shock on the boy's face, even if the sound was little more than a low rumble, rusty from disuse, deep in his chest. "Fair enough. Neither can I."

The shock faded quickly from Ace's freckled face, his expression going sly instead. "Even footing still, then, eh old man?" the brat said with a short laugh, hand sliding down between them to curl, sure and unhurried, around the root of Smoker's half-hard cock. He had a grip, the kid did. Smoker shook the boy's head by the fist in his hair gently once in warning to get him to ease it back. With a snicker that showed he was anything but cowed, Ace relaxed his hold slightly, but only enough so he could slide his hand the length of Smoker's cock, drawing loose skin tighter over re-filling flesh with each steady stroke.

"Hardly. This is still my ship." Smoker grinned tightly as Ace moved against him, gathering himself, shifting the legs spread across Smoker's thighs in a deliberate way even as his hand kept up it's steady motion. "Seems this old man has more endurance than you, punk. Worn out that quick, were you?"

The grin returned, knowing and skilled, like the pulls on Smoker's cock. Filling him with a resurgent need. Dark eyes flashed at him from beneath heavy lids. "Just taking it easy on you, old man."

"Hn. Sure you were." He caught the teasing gaze with his own, holding it steadily as he bent closer. Doing nothing to force Ace's head to shift on its own, but pleased when Ace tilted his own head willingly to meet his lips.

The boy's mouth was agile and wet and warm, but without the unnatural heat of before. Just a human heat for the moment. And more than enough. Clever lips sliding against Smoker's mouth, first with, then against. Nipping and sucking. The two of them each locked to their own shape this time, sweating and bare. Flesh sticking, breath catching and blood surging without the unnatural spur of smoke to fire.

Sharp teeth drew a hint of blood from his lip, making him curse. He jerked back, dragging the boy briefly higher in his arms as he rose sharply to his knees, trapping Ace's own slick, already solid length tight against his belly. The move trapped Ace's hand awkwardly between their bodies too, fingers still curling determinedly around Smoker's cock even as his own knees slipped to the floor with a thud. He swayed slightly, balance preserved by Smoker's relentless grip on his hair, and the bend of a thick arm framing Ace's shoulder and back like a cage.

As if any cage could ever hold this boy, Smoker thought sardonically, he was fire even when his flesh stayed solid.

In time with the slow thrusting roll of his hips, Smoker ran his free hand down the length of Ace's back. Felt the lean muscles flex and shift eagerly beneath sweat-streaked skin. He knew the hated tattoo was there too, blaring the boy's true allegiance for the world to see, but thankfully couldn't trace the inked lines with just his fingertips. Closing his eyes, he passed the curve of lower back in a rush, broad palm dropping down to cup one tight butt cheek for a long moment before flexing his arm and rocking the boy's body against his. Hard.

Ace dragged his hand out from between them, grabbing at Smoker's shoulder, messy fingers sliding across skin as he arched into him. The boy's breath whistled harshly between clenched teeth as Smoker rocked them together relentlessly, cock to cock. Over and over again. In deep, rolling surges made easier by the honest sweat pooling between them and the two cocks leaking slick fluids against each other.

The boy was caught hard in his grasp. Working against him toward his own pleasure with hip and hand and mouth even as he was contained within Smoker's arms. Engulfed again, but by flesh this time. Snarling, Smoker slid them together faster, chest to chest, until hearts thundered in a counterpoint felt and echoed through flesh and bone. Surrounded by him, but not daunted, Ace gasped and twisted against him with abandon, eyes closed, dark hair stuck to damp flesh. But not to escape; straining with him, for him, _because_ of him.

It was a heady thing, this pure response, this perfectly mirrored need. Almost enough to make him forget himself completely... No, that made it a madness, part of his mind insisted. But still he couldn't stop.

"If you don't come first, I'll throw you straight in the brig, pirate boy," Smoker growled through an oddly tight throat, then bent down to fasten his teeth on the point of Ace's shoulder. Gnawed on the shuddering muscle beneath the sweat-salty flesh until Ace cried out and shoved his face away. Shifting it back toward his own.

"That's cheap, you Marine bastard," Ace groaned against his mouth, kissing him savagely again as his hands clawed at Smoker's back, raking down his shoulders impatiently. Cocks trapped together on their bellies surged against each other, slick heads and throbbing shafts bumping together faster, harder. Until suddenly the boy threw his head back and shouted, mouth working as he added his own thrusts to the mix, butt flexing like a springboard, thighs rippling hard around Smoker's own as his cock spurted in a thick surge against Smoker's belly. Drenching his cock in a sudden slick heat that made him bare his teeth and bite back a shout of triumph.

"Good boy." Smoker bowled him over, sending him sprawling again, one hand slamming flat on the floor beside the boy's head as he loomed above him, his other already yanking his slick cock the last few times necessary to make it spurt thick ropes of come all over the boy's heaving chest and straining, bobbing throat. One pale splash even made it as far as the corner of the gasping mouth.

Ace glared at him as he shuddered above him, both of them sucking in deep breaths of air, eyes narrowed dangerously. Then the boy reached up with an unsteady hand and wiped at the spatter on his chest, pausing a long moment before rubbing it into his skin. The sight made Smoker shudder again, balls throbbing hard in response, cock jerking. But when he licked the splash of come from the side of his mouth slowly, swallowing it with obvious relish, Smoker dropped down, arms bracketing the brat's head, and plundered his mouth. Chased his own essence amid the boy's for long mindless moments until the need for oxygen broke them apart.

"P-pretty good... for an... old man," Ace gasped, lips twisting into a taunting grin.

"Damn punk," Smoker murmured, pressing his forehead to the boy's, dimly aware of the sound of running feet approaching from outside his cabin. His men, alerted far too late to the intruder.

Ace's heavy gaze flickered, his smile fading some as he reached up and laid his hands lightly over Smoker's wrists. "'Spose we made too much noise this way."

"Seems so," Smoker said, hands flexing against the scattered hair around the boy's head. His men were milling in the hallway outside now, voices raised as they tried to narrow down the location of the earlier shouts.

Ace's eyes gleamed with bright challenge. "Still gonna try and throw me in the brig?"

He snorted, mouth curving. "Of course I am."

A sharp knocking came from his door. "Captain Smoker! Captain Smoker?"

Smoker caught the dark gaze. Held it. Resisted the urge to wipe the grin from that mouth with his own as the pounding on his door grew more insistent. "The sail on the wreck was Blackbeard's, but we didn't find any bodies," he said as he shifted back, lifting himself to one foot and draping an arm casually across the raised knee, then frowning as he turned his head to face his cabin door. "What the hell is going on out there?" he bellowed at the man outside, annoyed.

He felt the boy move, of course. Saw him slide away from beneath him from the corner of his eye, a blur of motion grabbing shorts and belt, boots and hat as he went. Looked slowly back over his shoulder in time to get an eyeful of Whitebeard's tattoo spread across a lean back as it disappeared through the door to his private head. At least the brat had the sense to shut the door quietly behind himself, Smoker noted with approval.

"Captain Smoker! The watch reported shouting coming from this deck," the sailor outside his door called. "Have you heard anything strange, sir?" The man sounded concerned. And so he should, if a notorious pirate like Portgas D. Ace could slip aboard a Marine ship so easily. Smoker rose slowly to his feet and reached for the box of cigars on his desk as a flash of reddish light and a soft roar came from behind the door of the small room behind him.

"No. Nothing strange," Smoker snapped, biting off the end of one cigar before sticking it in his mouth. A second soon followed. "But check all decks anyway."

"Yes sir!" The men outside his door pounded away. After a moment, more shouting started up outside on the main deck. Some heavy thumping followed, but no screams. Then, suddenly, silence.

Smoker dug matches out of his coat pocket where it hung on the far side of the room with one smoky tendril. Lit one, raised it to his mouth and puffed his cigars to life. Looked like he'd have to have Tashigi run more battle and watch drills while they were at sea. Couldn't have his men slacking on the Grand Line, after all...

Smoker peered through the curling smoke of his cigars at the hand-shaped scorch marks on the side of his desk. Scowled.

... they might get soft.

\-- end --


End file.
